


Rise and Set

by Cajuzinhoinho



Series: BrArg Week 2020 [6]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, BrargWeek2020, Don't Read This, M/M, bad worldbuilding, brargweek, very vague and very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27785671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cajuzinhoinho/pseuds/Cajuzinhoinho
Summary: When humans first started walking on the earth, there was no such thing as sunrise or sunset. The sun would appear in the day and vanish at night, fast and clean. It was because of a curse that the sky first became pink.
Relationships: Argentina/Brazil (Hetalia)
Series: BrArg Week 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2025860
Comments: 7
Kudos: 8





	Rise and Set

**Author's Note:**

> This was the most difficult day, and if i’m being honest I’m really not happy with the result, and if not for the event i probably wouldn’t post it.   
> There’s some elements of a vague, nonspecified mythology, gods and stuff, except that i didn’t bother properly building the world of this au so everything is just… vague. Just don’t think about it too hard ok because i sure didnt.  
> Also i know the prompt is sun and moon but i decided to go for sun and night sky instead since, well, there’s a sun in the arg flag and the night sky in the br flag, also it helped with some plot wholes, so thats it.   
> Also…. this is depressing. Don’t read it unless you like being sad.

Luciano watched his stars for a moment longer, feeling his own breath gradually weaken. He knew the time was coming, yet he felt his stomach drop every time. There was a light breeze, dew covering the grass and the trees over the entire world. Part of him wanted to stay longer, part could no longer stand the wait. So he got up and walked back inside, to the maze of old corridors and windows and stairs that led to the highest floor, to an almost empty room.

It had one bed, sculpted in golden ornaments and covered by the lightest white sheets. Luciano made his way to it and kneeled by its side. 

Martín was still pale and dead. His face was warm when Luciano ran his fingers softly over his forehead to move the hair over his eyes, but still, he was dead. Beautiful, as every moment, as he never stopped being, so peaceful that he could be asleep. Luciano smiled, letting fondness take over him a moment. He touched the bandaged wound on his stomach stained red from blood and even warmer than his face. The blood was old, and every second Martín was a little hotter. 

The pale slowly gave way to a golden glow, still shy and weak but undoubtedly there. Luciano sat on the bed and stroked Martín’s hair even as it started to burn the skin of his hand. Martín’s hair was more golden now than it had been seconds prior, too, and Luciano always loved that. How golden he was. Even before he became the sun. 

When humans first started walking on the earth, there was no such thing as sunrise or sunset. The sun would appear in the day and vanish at night, fast and clean. The light and the darkness were commanded with simplicity and sharpness by a single god of the sky who had existed since before the earth itself. The humans enjoyed the warmth of the sun and the beauty of the night like all mortal creatures, never paying much thought to how it all happened and continued to do so, forever.

Somewhere between the first groups of humans to be created, there were two lovers. Two lovers picking silly fights in their youth and irresponsibility, that they managed the unimaginable feat of killing the god of the sky. They had that habit, of killing things for adventure, of putting themselves in danger and laughing at their luck because they always came out of it alive. But killing a god? That was not supposed to work. And when it did, the other gods bestowed a curse upon the two, for the sun still needed to shine and the night sky still needed to cover the world, but the one responsible to do it was no longer there. But it had been more than pragmatism from the gods, it had also been revenge.

Luciano meant light, one who comes from the light. He liked warm days under the sun, he liked to swim when it was hot and run around the fields. He liked to feel his skin ticklish as he sunbathed. It was all taken away from him when he became the night sky. 

And Martín had always been golden, but he liked to sing to the night romantic songs about the stars in Luciano’s eyes. He liked when it was all dark, and he could hear the world breathe in its sleep. And he liked to lay Luciano on the grass under the moonlight when they made love. But he became the sun, and never sang to the moon again.

It still somewhat suited him, to be the sun. To be the bright driving force of the world, the warmth which allowed the existence of every single thing. He was breathing now, though just barely. Luciano laid by his side and just watched, while he could. But as Martín’s strength returned, the night sky became a lighter shade of blue that made Luciano’s bones feel like glass. 

He was watching when Martín opened his eyes. He stared at Luciano and smiled, finding energy enough just to lift his arm and touch his face. His touch was like fire, he was almost back to his full glow now, but Luciano moved his body so that he was on top of his burning skin, chest to chest, then leaned in to kiss him. 

Martín opened his mouth under his with no surprise and no doubt. He settled one hand on the back of Luciano's neck, another on his shoulder, and let himself be kissed. At that moment he was not the Martín Luciano had known, full of life and passion, but he would soon be. There was still love in their kiss, and for that Luciano was forever grateful that this moment hadn't been lost to them. 

When humans first started walking on the earth, there was no such thing as sunrise or sunset. The sun would appear in the day and vanish at night, fast and clean. But that was when there was one god. The curse failed at forcing the two to do the same because when they kissed, the whole world turned red and purple and orange and yellow and all the colors the sky was never supposed to have. 

But Martín kept glowing more and more. They broke the kiss, Martín removed both his hands to find a knife hidden under the sheets. Every day was the same, for the curse had been very specific and unbreakable. Luciano held his hand and smiled. He kissed Martín again as if he could make it last a little longer. He couldn’t, and both knew, so he held Martín's hand a little tighter as he stabbed his stomach with the knife. 

The pain was familiar, the blood and the life leaving his body in a constant flow. He kept smiling, though Martín had tears in his eyes. Or Luciano thought he had, his face was starting to blur. He tried to kiss his eyelids, make the tears go away, comfort him even, but soon he no longer knew where he was. He was kissing Martín. Martín had his lips on his and held him as if he could keep awake and alive and the sky could stay pink just by the force of his embrace. 

Luciano was kissing Martín when he died. His body went limp over his just at the moment Martín felt his own life fully returning. The mourning was latent but unavoidable, though he went through it at every dawn. Now the sky was light blue and bright because Martín was alive and glowing, but Luciano was bleeding on the white sheets and gone. 

Martín laid him properly, with his head settled over the pillows. It broke his heart to see Luciano like this, without the glistening stars in his eyes and hair and skin. He looked grayish now, cold and dry.

That was the worst part of the curse, killing Luciano every morning and letting him kill him every night. They had been lovers, thousands of years ago, but now all they had with each other were those short moments when both were weak and one was dying. Even if Martín didn't want to hold the knife and didn't want to bury it in Luciano, his arms moved despite him, its destiny set. The rest of the day he had to spend alone, walking around the huge house set for only them by the gods. He usually sat in the grass and enjoyed the day because he knew Luciano would be enjoying it or played a song thinking of him. He still wrote some songs, about the pain of being separated from his love, about how much he loved the sunset, about how he watched Luciano on their bed, and how beautiful he looked even then. It was all Martín had to comfort himself. 

But first, he’d take care of Luciano. Take the knife from his stomach, clean the ugly wound, bandage it. It didn’t matter, it would heal by itself when it was time, but Martín couldn't help it. Perhaps it was those small daily useless rituals that allowed him to remain somewhat human in heart, or to believe he had. Writing songs, kissing Luciano, patching the wounds he himself inflicted.

That day, Martín didn’t feel like leaving his side. He mostly stayed in the room, watching the day from the window. Being the sun was a monotonous job, he just had to exist at the right times, and bear the pain of losing the one he loved the most so that he could do so. Sometimes he could pretend Luciano was simply asleep since he would wake up anyway. Martín didn't even remember what sleep felt like anymore, he just had life and death, rise and set. He imagined it would be the same for Luciano, and he’d love to ask, to hear him trying to explain the absurdity of their existence, and then listen to Martín share his many lifetimes of thoughts on the matter. How long has it been since they last spoke? There were phrases here and there, pleadings, desperate apologies, soothing words, but no conversation. 

Martín closed his eyes and tried to recreate the sound of Luciano’s voice in his head, his laugh, how it went up half a step when he told a joke, how the edges of the words blurred when he whispered Martín’s name. 

He missed making love, too. There was never enough time, they were always too weak, they were lucky they still had those stolen kisses that had given the mortals the whole new concept of a sky that wasn't blue or black or gray. The kisses kept Martín going, though he didn't have another option anyway. He’d go through the day knowing the last thing he’d feel were Luciano’s lips on his, and that he’d come back to life to kiss him some more. Still, he missed the sweat, the mess, the warmth, and not just that but all the other things they did together in a time so distant it didn’t feel real anymore. But the sun needed to still shine and the night sky needed to still cover the world.

Eventually, he knew it was time. He walked back to the bed, Luciano’s skin was soft again and recovering the richness in its colors. For centuries Martín had resisted, trying to run from death or fight it, but now he was too tired to. It was a curse, after all, there was no fighting it. It was the same every night. Luciano opened his eyes, his beautiful black eyes full of stars, kissed him, their bodies pressed together, and then Martín was dying slowly by the same knife. As life fled him once more, he kissed Luciano as if he could do it forever, and the whole world was the most beautiful shade of pink.

**Author's Note:**

> That’s it, i hope i haven’t bored you to death.


End file.
